Clash of the Dragons 5
Clash of the Dragons 5 is an encounter in Against the King. Enemies * Royal Battle Archmage (Against the King) (100 Gold, 100 XP, 100 Energy, 2 HP) Transcript Introduction A servant came to bring the word, The boy turned pale, the news half heard Before his eyes and world grew blurred; His vision had in truth occurred; All his nightmares were reborn. He read his journal, groaning deep, And shuddered when he thought of sleep; In darkest night the horrors creep, To chill and to forewarn. *** "Casters!" Carolyn said. "We need to... Oh, gods..." Green fire erupted, a wall of roaring, lashing, devouring emerald flames. The foremost rebels, the ones who'd led the charge, were ashes and charred skeletons before they could scream. But not those further back. They shrieked and flailed as they died. Gnawing green tongues danced on their corpses. The curtain of fire parted, revealing the mages once more. A barrage of lightning, frost, and fire flew from their hands -- battering the fleeing warriors' backs. Zeilend's eyes sharpened into dangerous slits. She knew how to deal with entrenched spellcasters... The woman from the Western Wold gazed around. But René and his chevaliers were across the field, making their own charge at another enemy position. Richard neighed. He understood, and the proud horse wouldn't shirk his duty any more than his mistress could. Zeilend looked over her shoulder at the rest of her unit. "With me!" she said. "Ride!" Conclusion Half a mile, half a mile, Half a mile onward, Over the purple grass Rode Zeilend's hundred. "Forward, the castle gates! Spill all the casters' blood!" she said: Over the purple grass Rode Zeilend's hundred. The words whispered in her ears. That poem, composed in honor of her exploits at the Battle of Krezzor, had always cheered her. Now it was an ominous echo in her head. A dire warning. But Zeilend didn't hesitate. Nor did Richard. The horse strained under her, his powerful, elegant muscles launching him across the churned up earth and strewn corpses so fast he seemed to fly -- transformed into a pegasus by courage, will, and thew. "Forward, the castle gates!" Was man or fiend distraught? No, though the warriors knew, Doom would soon be wrought. Beneath the emerald sky, Midst shaft and battle cry, Avowed to slay or die, Over the purple grass Rode Zeilend's hundred. "Ride!" Her voice rang out over the thundering hooves and the endless dirge of battle's steel orchestra. Richard ploughed through flickering green fires, through ash and incinerated bone. The sharp tang of sorcery and cruel, tantalizing odor of roasted flesh teased her nostrils before the wind stroked her cheeks and whipped them away. Fireballs to the right of them, Fireballs to the left of them, Fireballs in front of them Raging inferno; Battered by shaft and spell, Hearing the reaper's knell, Over the purple grass, Over the fiends of hell Rode Zeilend's hundred. The casters shouted and scrambled. Their hands glowed in a dozen colors, like a garden filled with flowers. Blue light flashed on her left; pink electricity on her right. Behind her a horse shrieked and a man screamed. Yellow energy erupted in front, a miniature sunrise, throwing dirt and scattering blasted limbs in all directions. Richard didn't falter. He jumped over the explosion and kept going. An arcane arrow zapped towards her. Zeilend leaned away from it. Searing heat washed over her face. Her hair crackled. More screams. Horses and riders crashed and rolled on the ground, a tangle of immolated meat and snapping bones. But they were close... Bright all their sword blades flashed, Bright as they cut and slashed, And casters' brains they smashed, Charging the horde while All Krezzor marveled: Drenched in the casters' gore Through endless host they tore; Legions of demons Stamped beneath hooves of war, Battered and broken. Their deaths soon forgotten, Not Zeilend's hundred. "Cut them down!" Zeilend waved her sword above her head. Richard put on a final burst of speed, finding fresh strength somewhere in his heroic equine frame. Just a few more seconds... The casters' startled faces were close and clear. More magic projectiles rained around them. An explosion scarred her vision, imprinting its fury on her eyes. Something was wrong... Richard cried out and the world toppled. Zeilend hit the ground hard, smashed against the earth. She bounced and rolled, bones bludgeoned again and again with every tumble. "That one's alive! Finish her!" Fireballs to the right of them, Fireballs to the left of them, Fireballs behind them Raging inferno; Battered by shaft and spell, While horse and demon fell, They heard the reaper's knell, Over the bloodstained grass, All who were left of them, Of Zeilend's hundred. Zeilend's body told her she was doomed. A dozen injuries dragged her towards the abyss, yanking her into oblivion. But the warrior of the Western Wold ignored them. Her blade was in her hand... "Kill her!" Something scorched her shoulder. She didn't care. "Kill the-" Her sword struck. It flashed left and right in her numb fingers, a strange bird flapping around her vision. There were shouts and screams. And crimson. Warm wetness splashed her chest and cheeks. And then there was nothing. No one. She was alone, among the dead. Bloody robed bodies lay around her. "We did it, Richard..." Zeilend stumbled away. Her weapon fell from her grasp, lost in the slaughter. It didn't matter now. "Did it..." A soft, quiet neigh called to her. She dropped to her knees and stroked him with a red hand, staining his hide. A big, dark eye stared into hers from amid the burned flesh and blackened bone. "Richard..." She slumped onto her side beside him. Their song will never fade, How many fiends they slayed! All Krezzor marveled. Glory to those who slayed, Glory to those who braved, Zeilend's bold hundred. Category:Against the King